


Talk Dirty To Me

by vix_spes



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Cybersex, Dirty Talk, Fingerfucking, Language Kink, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Rimming, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-07
Updated: 2013-06-07
Packaged: 2017-12-14 05:34:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/833344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vix_spes/pseuds/vix_spes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of vignettes throughout the early years of Mycroft and Lestrade’s relationship as they make discoveries about themselves and each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Talk Dirty To Me

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to alafaye and blue_eyed_1987 for beta-ing for me. Also thanks to arianedevere whose transcript of A Study in Pink was incredibly helpful. Very loosely based on the following prompt: Character A is highly proficient in languages. Character B has a kink for tongues (in both senses of the word!). Cue incredibly hot sex. The bits of dialogue in foreign languages come from translation sites on the web … if they’re wrong, blame google!

If you asked him, Greg Lestrade would be the first person to admit that he was fairly hopeless when it came to languages. In fact, he was fairly certain that he was the bane of his language teacher’s life. He’d gone to your average, bog-standard, local comprehensive where the only foreign language that you had the opportunity to learn was French. Greg had just about managed to scrape through and earn his O-level whereupon he’d promptly managed to forget about 90% of it. It wasn’t as though he had needed any of it. As soon as he had finished school he had gone straight to Hendon and then joined the Met down on the beat in Camberwell and Brixton. He had needed to use it a couple of times since he had left the beat and joined Scotland Yard, but he was incredibly rusty and Dimmock, the little twat, enjoyed rubbing it in about how he had several high-grade A-levels in German and Spanish.

Still, Lestrade hadn’t had much of an opinion on languages in general until he had met Mycroft Holmes.

The sudden and occasional presence of the good-looking gentleman in the perfectly tailored suits had concerned them at first. Although not nearly as much as the equally well-dressed young man strung out on cocaine who kept appearing at crime scenes, insisting that they were doing everything wrong and he knew who the killer was already. Lestrade didn’t know what bothered him the most; that the kid was wasting his life and his money on cocaine or that he was always right about who had perpetrated the crime. He finally managed to talk to the older man when they arrested the younger man when he was caught trying to break into a crime scene.

The younger man, a Sherlock Holmes they had finally discovered, was in the cells yelling himself hoarse about their incompetency and how if they would just use their brains and their eyes then it was perfectly obvious who the killer was. The desk sergeant kept phoning Lestrade to complain, but Lestrade was adamant that he didn’t give a shit and surely she’d heard worse on a Saturday night. He’d put the phone down and then remembered which part of London they were in; the desk sergeant was a fairly wet-behind-the-ears new recruit who had certainly never had to face the firms down in New Cross when Milwall and West Ham were playing.

Instead, he concentrated on trying to make a dent in the small mountain of paperwork that had accumulated on his desk in the last week. He would probably be here until the early hours of the morning and he was, once again, reminded why his marriage had failed. Laura had announced that he was married to the job and not her so she’d been having an affair with a PE teacher of all people. Still, at least they hadn’t had any children to traumatise with their fucked up relationship; they would have actually had to have been in the same room long enough to have sex for that to happen.

At least it had diminished if not completely eradicated stress in his personal life, probably because he didn’t have a personal life anymore and pretty much lived at the Yard.

He had been steadily plodding through the paperwork for a couple of hours when he had another phone call from the desk sergeant to say that someone had arrived to get Sherlock Holmes and that he wanted to speak to the arresting officer so was there any chance that Lestrade could come down and speak to him? Well, he really didn’t have any choice considering that he was still in the building, but he wasn’t going to make the effort of putting his tie back on.

Instead he drained his coffee, or rather the sludge that the office called coffee, which had gone cold at least an hour ago and located his jacket from where he had slung it. By the time that he had made it down to the custody suite, he really wished that he had put his tie on because he felt definitely rumpled and almost slovenly upon seeing who was waiting for him. It was the mysterious well-dressed man that he normally saw emerging from a rather expensive black car with tinted windows. As soon as he walked in, the man turned to him, hand outstretched and a polite smile on his face.

“Detective Inspector Lestrade, a pleasure to meet you. My name is Mycroft Holmes and I believe you have my brother in custody.”

Despite his best efforts, Greg felt his jaw drop. “Brother? You’re related to Sherlock?”

“Is it really that surprising Detective? Would you mind telling me what he has been arrested for?”

“You mean you don’t know?”

“No. My assistant merely informed me that he had been arrested.”

“He was caught trying to break into a crime scene. When officers tried to detain him, he insisted that we were all idiots and had missed several vital pieces of evidence that would allow us to catch the perpetrator. He was arrested because he was strung out on cocaine, assaulted one of my officers who was trying to detain him, and then inadvertently caused property damage when he tried to access the scene for the second time.”

“Ah.”

“What do you mean ‘ah’? I’m sorry, Mr Holmes, but this isn’t the first time that this has happened. There’s only so much that I can do. Your brother needs help.”

The other man simply inclined his head in response. “Detective Inspector, I have a proposition for you.”

There was a squeak from the desk and Greg didn’t need to look to know that the poor girl was blushing furiously. Although to be honest, so was he. “Okay, come this way,” and he directed the man into one of the interrogation rooms. Once inside and with the door shut, he turned to look at the other man. “Seriously, ‘I have a proposition for you’? I think you’ve been watching too many films and TV shows. And who do you think you are to think that you can offer a proposition to a member of Scotland Yard?”

“On the contrary, I don’t watch television and I am not fond of modern cinema. As for who I am, I’m nobody special, simply a concerned older sibling.”

Greg wasn’t completely convinced by that one, but he would let it slide for the time being. “Well go on then, the least I can do is see what your proposition is.”

Greg watched as the gentleman that he guessed was a few years younger than him took a seat and gracefully crossed his legs, resting on the handle of his umbrella. “What are your objections to Sherlock being present at crime scenes?”

“Do you mean other than the drug use and the fact that he’s a civilian?” Greg couldn’t help the sarcasm that leached into his voice.

Mycroft Holmes remained completely unruffled. “Yes, aside from that. Has he ever been wrong?”

“What?” Greg was fairly certain that his jaw was hanging open in a rather stupid and unattractive manner.

“Sherlock? Have his deductions ever been wrong?”

“Well, no, but….”

“My proposition is this Detective Inspector … if I take care of the drug issue and ensure that Sherlock is clean, will you allow him to attend crime scenes?”

“Even if he was clean, I couldn’t allow him to attend crime scenes because he’s a civilian. He may be brilliant, but that isn’t the point.”

“How about a trial run?”

“Have you listened to a single word I’ve said?” Greg was incredulous. He couldn’t believe the nerve of this man and he was swiftly coming to a conclusion. “You’re not going to leave until I’ve agreed to this trial run, are you?”

“You are quite correct, Detective Inspector. Now, this trial run?”

“One crime scene.”

“Three.”

“Two and proof that he’s been through rehab and is clean.”

“We have an agreement, Detective Inspector. I shall take my leave and go deal with Sherlock.”

Greg just stood there in something of a daze as they shook hands and Mycroft Holmes swept out of the room. He had no real idea what had just happened.

~*~

They had made it past the two crime scene limit that Greg had imposed and he had to admit, however grudgingly, that Sherlock was bloody brilliant and had caught details and made connections far faster that Greg would have managed himself. The problem was that, however brilliant Sherlock was at solving crimes, he had the ability to rile up Lestrade’s team like nobody else. Even the fact that he was clean seemed to have had no improvement on his personality. Still, taking into account the fact that Sherlock was staying clean and he was useful, Greg could see no real reason to ban him from crime scenes even if he was a civilian. But then again, Greg had never really been your traditional, conventional copper. The only downside for Greg was that he hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Mycroft Holmes since he had agreed to give Sherlock a trial period.

They had closed a case two days ago so Greg had spent the interim period trying desperately to clear the backlog of paperwork on his desk. The fact that they now had Sherlock may mean that they completed cases quicker, but all the little git did was swan around crime scenes or Greg’s office making demands; he didn’t actually help at all with the paperwork. Finally giving in at nearly midnight, he stepped outside Scotland Yard to find a black sedan idling at the curb, a beautiful woman stood next to it completely and utterly engrossed in her Blackberry. Narrowing his eyes, but knowing that if there were really a problem the car would be moved on by the desk sergeants, he turned to make his way to the nearest underground when his phone vibrated in his pocket. Fishing it out, he frowned at the fact that it was a blocked number.

“Hello?”

“Detective Inspector, I wonder if you could get in the car,” Greg looked to where a door of the black sedan had opened, “I need to discuss some things with you.”

Greg hung up the phone when the voice on the other end hung up and left him with nothing but a dialling tone ringing in his ear and got in the car, the woman sliding in behind him still surgically attached to her Blackberry. Sitting back, he watched through the window as the car drove through the streets of London until they finally arrived in an abandoned industrial estate where a familiar figure awaited them.

Seriously, why couldn’t Holmes act like a normal human?

“Mr Holmes. Any reason that we’re in a disused warehouse? I mean, it’s not as if you don’t know where I work.”

“I was wondering if I could make you an offer.”

“Make me an offer?” Greg chuckled. “Mr Holmes, that is nearly as bad as making me a proposition. What kind of offer is it?”

“I’m willing to offer you a meaningful sum of money on a regular basis in exchange for information.”

“Information? On Sherlock I presume?”

“Well, of course on Sherlock. Nothing indiscreet. Nothing that you’d feel … uncomfortable with. Just tell me what he’s up to.”

“Mr Holmes, Sherlock is your brother. Why don’t you just ask him all of this yourself? Or, even better, go and see him?”

“I would prefer, for various reasons, that my concern go unmentioned. You may be aware, after witnessing several of our interactions, that we have what you might call a … difficult relationship.”

“I’m sorry Mr Holmes, but I can’t take your money.”

“But I haven’t mentioned a figure.” The younger gentleman seemed somewhat bemused by Greg’s quick refusal.

“Don’t bother.”

“You’re very loyal, _very_ quickly.”

“No, I’m not; I’m certainly not that loyal to Sherlock.  I just don’t think that you quite comprehend what you’re asking. I’m a _Detective Inspector,_ Mr Holmes, a member of the Metropolitan Police. I can’t just take amounts of money from someone that I don’t know to pass over information. It isn’t ethical; it isn’t legal!”

“Is everything always so clear cut for you, Detective Inspector? I’m afraid that the world isn’t always so black and white; there is a whole spectrum of grey.”

“You don’t have to tell me that Mr Holmes, I am perfectly aware of it.”

And the thing was, Greg was aware of it. He did want to help Mycroft. He knew that Sherlock was a wild card, that he was going to need constant monitoring. He just couldn’t accept money for doing it. Oh well, in for a penny, in for a pound.

“Mr Holmes? I won’t take your money, but I am willing to meet you for a coffee to let you know how he’s doing.”

“That is an acceptable compromise. Thank you very much, Detective Inspector. Anthea will return you to your home.”

“You may as well call me Greg, Mr Holmes.”

“In which case, it’s Mycroft. I shall be in touch Gregory.” And with those words Mycroft had turned and was walking towards the back of the warehouse.

Almost back to his flat, in the back of a car filled with awkward silence, Greg finally realised that Mycroft had implied that he had Greg’s number without it being given to him. By the time he had stepped out of the car, he had made a mental note to run Mycroft’s name through the databases because not only did Mycroft intrigue him, but there was more to the man than he was letting on.

(~*~)

Greg wasn’t entirely certain how many of these coffee dates to discuss Sherlock that they had before he realised that he wanted these meetings to continue for reasons other than Sherlock. He liked Mycroft, genuinely liked him. Not to mention that he was attractive as well. Oh yes, Mycroft Holmes was the whole package and a rather lovely package at that.

As soon as Greg had arrived home after his little kidnapping experience, he had run the name Mycroft Holmes through the police databases and come up empty handed before resorting to Google. Here, he had been a bit more successful. According to what he found, Mycroft was from an old money family (which, when the father was called Siger, would explain the fact that the brothers were called Mycroft and Sherlock) and that he had graduated from Cambridge with first class honours. Beyond that, the only other information available was that he currently occupied a minor position within the British Government, something that Mycroft had told him already. It was also something that Greg wasn’t inclined to believe. Oh, it might well be true that officially Mycroft only occupied a minor position, but that couldn’t be the _entire_ truth. The man had his fingers in too many pies and Greg was fairly certain that Mycroft was actually of great importance to Queen and Country.

Finally, Greg came to the conclusion that he was pining like a teenage girl and, considering that he was a man old enough to know better, it was more than a little pathetic. So, the next time that he met Mycroft to discuss Sherlock, he bit the bullet and, as they were saying their farewells, he asked Mycroft out on a date. An actual date. One which, hopefully, they wouldn’t be discussing Sherlock at all. Of course, agreeing to go on a date and organising said date were two very different things. Between Mycroft’s schedule and Greg’s hours, it seemed as though arranging a date was nigh on impossible and Greg was starting to think that he was never going to get to go on a date with Mycroft. Mycroft was obviously felt the same way because at the end of one shift, Greg left Scotland Yard to find a familiar black sedan idling at the curb, an equally familiar assistant waiting by the open door. Once inside, he couldn’t resist smirking at the other occupant of the back seat.

“Resorting to kidnapping again, Mr Holmes?”

“If needs must, Detective Inspector.”

Mycroft’s tone of voice was calm and collected as always, but Greg could see a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth and relaxed back into the seat.

The driver took them to a little bar tucked out of the way of tourists that left Greg pleasantly surprised. It wasn’t a pub like he normally frequented, but equally, it wasn’t a high-end wine bar; the kind that he had envisaged Mycroft having a liking for. Once they were inside and settled, their drinks in hand, he was even more pleasantly surprised. He had known that Mycroft was physically attractive, that much was obvious, and that he was both intelligent and worried constantly about Sherlock, but that was pretty much all he knew; their meetings had always focused on Sherlock.

Now, Greg was discovering all kinds of things that made Mycroft even more intriguing and attractive. They didn’t talk about Sherlock at all and neither of them was very inclined to talk about work so turned instead to interests outside work. Given that both of them were practically married to their work, it didn’t take them long to exhaust that particular subject at which point they resorted to telling stories about their childhoods and growing up. Greg’s bark of laughter at Mycroft’s revelation that Sherlock wanted to be a pirate when he was a child had turned heads and garnered more than a few dirty looks, but neither man cared too much.

Far too soon for either man’s liking came the call for last orders and, finishing their drinks, the two of them made their way outside, Mycroft searching for his phone to call for his driver. Before he could press the call button, Greg stopped him, the action earning him a raised eyebrow in response.

“How long will it take your car to arrive once you’ve called?”

“No more than five minutes. Less, I would presume; my driver never really goes very far.”

“In which case, just leave off phoning them for a few minutes. Please?”

“Why?” Mycroft was looking at him a bit suspiciously now.

Greg tugged a fairly unresisting Mycroft into a semi-hidden alcove. “So that I can do this.”

As soon as he finished speaking, Greg leaned in and kissed Mycroft. He wasn’t sure if he was being too forward, but he had to take a chance. Judging from the way that Mycroft surged against him as he pulled away, immediately pulling Greg back in for another kiss, that hadn’t been the case at all. Slowing down the pace of the kiss so that it wasn’t quite so frantic, Greg bit Mycroft’s bottom lip and then, when he gasped, licked into his mouth so that he could explore thoroughly. They continued to trade kisses, Greg loving how responsive Mycroft was and the little noises (that sounded very much like squeaks as far as Greg was concerned) that Mycroft made when Greg couldn’t resist and slipped a hand down to grope the deliciously ample backside that had been teasing him for weeks.

And then they were both cursing as Mycroft’s phone rang and the inevitable black sedan appeared round the corner. As Mycroft disappeared into the car with a final peck on the lips and a muttered ‘I’ll be in touch’, his phone already glued to his ear, Greg couldn’t help but think that they were already setting a precedent for their relationship.

~*~

**One year…**

Normally Greg didn’t bother with cabs because a) they were fucking expensive and b) despite its shortcomings, he did actually like travelling on the underground when he could. However, travelling on the district line wasn’t an option when he was as hard as nails so a taxi was his only option; all the better because it would get him home sooner. He was amazed that Mycroft hadn’t noticed his arousal but then he supposed that Mycroft had been somewhat preoccupied with his phone call. It was just typical that the first sit down dinner date that they had managed to make it to without rescheduling, it would be interrupted by work. Still, Greg had got used to it in the year that he had been dating Mycroft. If it wasn’t Mycroft’s work interrupting them then it was Greg’s and if it wasn’t work for either of them, then it was Mycroft’s cock-blocking bloody irritating little brother Sherlock.

Today they had actually managed to make it all the way to ordering their dessert before they were interrupted; something of a miracle as far as they were concerned. Judging by the look of slight disdain on Mycroft’s face, he didn’t consider it important enough to have interrupted dinner, but the fact that Anthea was emerging from a car outside meant that it was that important.

Then Mycroft switched from English to Italian and all of Greg’s blood flooded south. Within seconds he was bidding a quick farewell to Mycroft and heading home in the first taxi that he could hail outside the restaurant, offering the cabbie double fare if he got him home within fifteen minutes. The cabbie did exactly that and within seconds of slamming and locking the door shut behind him, Greg was heading for his bedroom leaving a trail of clothes behind him.

He’d never really thought of himself as one of those guys who had particular kinks or needed something special in order to get off. Simply having feelings for his partner had always just been enough for him. Then again, he’d never gone out with somebody like Mycroft Holmes before. He had had shorter relationships before and been on more dates than he had been on with Mycroft, but then one of the beauties of their relationship was that, even though Mycroft wasn’t in the Force, he did know what it was like to have a job that didn’t have regular hours, where you could be called in at any moment and that could be all consuming. As wonderful as that was normally, it was fucking annoying when Greg actually wanted to spend some time with his partner. Especially when said partner had got him all hot and bothered unknowingly.

Lying back on his bed, he fumbled in the drawer for the sadly depleted tube of lubricant. If only it was depleted because he was actually having sex with Mycroft. Instead, the only action it saw was the same as the only action that Greg saw; with his right hand. Slicking his hand up, he didn’t bother prevaricating about anything ... he was too turned on to faff around.

In an ideal situation, it would be Mycroft’s mouth around his cock rather than his own hand, but needs must and all that rot. He didn’t think he’d gotten this hard so quickly for a long time, possibly since he’d been a teenager. He’d also never reacted like this to somebody speaking a foreign language, and when the conversation wasn’t even directed at him; he’d certainly never reacted like this when he was learning French and he’d been a teenager then with what seemed like a permanent erection.

Slowly he wrapped his hand around his cock, shuddering at the sensation, and started remembering Mycroft speaking Italian from his earlier conversation. Mentally, he pictured how Mycroft had looked as he focused on the conversation and the shapes that his lips had formed, comparing some of them to the way that he imagined Mycroft’s mouth would look wrapped around his cock. Increasing the speed with which his hand was stroking up and down his shaft, occasionally brushing a thumb over the head and spreading the pre-come down his length. He focused on how sexy the Italian language had sounded leaving Mycroft’s lips, however inadvertently given that Mycroft was undeniably talking about something incredibly tedious of government. Cupping his balls in his free hand, he rolled them slightly as he wondered how hot Mycroft would be talking dirty to him in Italian. Or any language for that matter; Greg couldn’t imagine that he was going to be too discerning about the whole thing.

From there, it took an embarrassingly short time before Greg was shouting his completion, spilling himself over his hand and his stomach. He then consoled himself with the fact that he had a ridiculously attractive boyfriend, but that he wasn’t getting any because he was being cockblocked not only by his job, but also by said boyfriend’s job. He was really going to have to do something about that. It was absolutely ridiculous.

He had just had one of the most explosive orgasms that he had had in a while wanking to the _memory_ of his partner speaking Italian. There was no denying that Mycroft was an attractive man but, combined with the three piece suits and the sheer competency of the man, he was pretty damn near irresistible. Trudging into the bathroom to clean himself up he made a mental note that, when he finally got Mycroft into a bed, they were going to try dirty-talking in a foreign language. If they ever made it into bed, of course.

~*~

**Two years…**

Greg looked up at the quiet knock on his door to see a familiar and very welcome figure silhouetted in the doorway.

“Mycroft! What brings you to my humble office?”

His partner gave a half smile as he moved further into the room. “I have some time before I have to meet with the Prime Minister and thought that there were better places to spend my free time than at the club.”

Greg smiled as he capped his pen and pushed back from his desk. “Late night meetings with the Prime Minister … should I be worried?”

“Not at all. May I remind you that the Prime Minister is in his late fifties, happily married to his childhood sweetheart, and with four children? Besides, he is hardly my type.” The last sentence was said in a somewhat haughty tone that made Greg laugh.

“I meant about the state of the country, but thank you for the reassurance.” Greg moved out from behind his desk to give Mycroft a kiss. “You really didn’t have to come down here though; you probably would have had a more interesting time at your club.”

“Actually, I had something in mind that would be infinitesimally more interesting than spending time at the club.”

Greg raised an eyebrow as he saw that Mycroft was blushing, although it wasn’t easy to tell under the crap lights of his office. “And what exactly did you have in mind?”

“I want you to fuck me over your desk. Here. At the Yard.”

Greg glanced out through the open blinds of his office windows to see empty desks where his team would normally be working. “You planned this.”

“Perhaps.” Mycroft tilted his head and gave that enigmatic little smile of his, the one that drove his younger brother and said brother’s flatmate insane. “Perhaps it was simply fortuitous timing.”

“There is no such thing as fortuitous timing as far as you’re concerned Mycroft. You planned this. Now, don’t bother playing coy with me, what do you want?”

“I want you to fuck me over your desk.”

The words sent a little thrill through Greg, much like when he heard Mycroft speaking in a foreign language. Only, it was so rare to hear Mycroft swear, even during sex, that it always had an instantaneous effect on him.

“Okay.”

Greg moved over to the door as Mycroft removed his suit jacket and laid it as neatly as he could over the sofa that Greg spent too many nights sleeping on when there was a case. He closed the door and shut the blinds, hesitating before he locked the door. Part of him really wanted to take the risk and leave it unlocked, but equally, he knew that if he didn’t lock it then sod’s law said that someone would turn up and walk in on them.

Turning around, he saw that Mycroft had removed his jacket and tie, but was still wearing the rest of his suit as he perched on the edge of Greg’s desk. A thrum of anticipation ran through him at the thought that they were really going to do this, they were actually going to have sex in his office at the Yard.

It only took him three strides before he was in front of Mycroft, slipping a hand behind Mycroft’s neck and pulling him in for a kiss. Mycroft immediately surged against him and Greg responded in kind. As they kissed, he blindly tried to clear some of the stuff off his desk and, judging by the fact that he was more preoccupied with Mycroft and less with where his paperwork ended, there were more than a few crashes as things landed on the floor. Not that he cared; he didn’t know exactly how much time they had and he wanted to take advantage of every single second.

He couldn’t be bothered with completely undressing them both. Even though he had locked the door, he wasn’t the only person who had the keys to the lock of his office and no doubt if they both stripped naked then that was just asking for trouble. Besides, there was just something about the way that Mycroft looked with his shirt ending just above the small of his back leaving his groin, his arse and thighs completely bare.

He removed even less of his own clothing. He simply discarded his shirt and unbuttoned his trousers, shoving both them and his boxers down his thighs. The only other thing that he had to do was to lean over the desk and retrieve the small tube of lubricant from the top drawer of his desk. It was risky keeping it ther,e but sexual frustration was a major player in their relationship considering their schedules and it had become a necessity over time.

He may not be a young man anymore, but there was no denying that he had a gorgeous partner and kisses combined with the act of undressing Mycroft not to mention anticipation at what they were about to do had him more than half-hard. Ensuring that Mycroft was properly seated on the desk, Greg opened the lubricant one-handed and coated his fingers as best as he could. Reaching down, he circled Mycroft’s hole briefly before slowly inserting the first finger. Greg watched in delight as the tight ring of muscle greedily swallowed in first one and then two of his fingers.

“Oh fuck!”

That was the other thing that had always fascinated Greg about Mycroft. Outside of the bedroom, or wherever they happened to be having sex at the time, the man hated the use of vulgarities and how prolific their use had become in recent times. He always insisted that the English language included so many wonderful words that nobody had to resort to using such common and crass language. Inside the bedroom was a completely different matter; the man swore like a sailor. Greg quite liked the fact that he was the only person who saw this side of Mycroft.

He wanted to take his time preparing Mycroft because there was nothing that he loved more than fingering Mycroft open as slowly as he possibly could but this simply wasn’t the time nor the place. Instead, he watched as a third finger was taken into Mycroft’s body in the same greedy fashion, rubbing the pad of his middle finger over Mycroft’s prostate insistently and revelling in the response it gained him.

“Look at you writhing on my fingers like a little slut,” the words slipped out of Greg’s mouth but before he could even think of retracting them, Mycroft moaned loudly and his cock gave a definite interested twitch.

And judging by Mycroft’s response to what he’d just said, there was a whole new side of Mycroft that he’d never seen before. This was definitely something that he could have fun exploring.

“Do you like that, Mycroft? Do you like being my little whore? My little cock slut?”

“Yes!” Mycroft squirmed as Greg removed his fingers with the most delicious sound and stared down at his lover spread out like a feast for him.

“Well, Mycroft? Are you my little cock slut? Do you want my cock? Is that what you want?”

“Yes, I do. Please. Please, Gregory … I want it.”

“What? What do you want?”

“Your cock, please. I need your cock.”

“Were my fingers not good enough for you, My? Or do you just need more?”

“Need more. For God’s sake, Gregory, just fuck me.”

“What would your colleagues say if they saw you now? The oh so perfectly put together, buttoned-up Mycroft Holmes begging for the cock of a common Detective Inspector.”

“Bugger my colleagues. I want your cock in me, Gregory.”

“So impatient, aren’t we, Mr Holmes. And I do believe that it’s you who is about to be buggered and not your colleagues.”

Greg rubbed the excess lube on his fingers over his cock, confident that his preparation of Mycroft, although somewhat hasty, had been sufficient. He wasted no more time before plunging in, seating himself completely in two thrusts. The pace he set was furious, his hips literally slamming into Mycroft’s upturned arse.

“Fuck, how are you so tight? Feel so good around me.”

It didn’t take long for Mycroft to manoeuvre himself so that he could wrap his legs around Greg’s hips in an attempt to take him deeper. It obviously wasn’t enough for Mycroft though and the feeling of Mycroft’s hand sneaking in between them in the hope of giving himself more pleasure had Greg pausing mid-motion.

“No. No touching, Mycroft. You’re going to come from my cock and my cock alone.”

Mycroft whined as Greg slapped his hand away from his cock and pulled out of him completely, the volume of the sound making Greg incredibly thankful that he was the only one who had stayed behind to work on paperwork.

“So eager, so desperate for my cock aren’t you?” Greg huffed the words out against Mycroft’s ear, even as he rubbed his cock up and down the cleft of Mycroft’s arse.

“Well, I wouldn’t be so eager or desperate for you if you would just get on with it.”

“And why would I want to do that? Where’s the fun in that?” Greg took a step backwards, pulling away from Mycroft completely before flipping Mycroft over onto his stomach instead.

“Gregory, for God’s sake!”

“Well, if you’re that desperate.” Greg thrust back in, bottoming out inside Mycroft completely. “How’s that? How does that feel, My?”

“So good, but will you please fuck me? I do have a meeting to get to, you know.”

“If you can still talk, I’m obviously not doing a good enough job. Still, with pleasure, my little slut.”

Greg renewed his efforts, experimenting with his movements until Mycroft was huffing out curses and pleas for more with every movement, no longer able to speak in full sentences as he rutted back against Greg. It couldn’t have been the most comfortable position, but Mycroft didn’t seem to care at all judging from his actions. Greg hitched Mycroft’s hips up, the movement slightly altering the angle of his thrusts so that he was raking across Mycroft’s hidden gland with every movement and that was it as far as Mycroft was concerned. He lasted maybe ten strokes and then he was coming, spurting all over both his chest and Greg’s desk, his internal muscles convulsing around Greg. After that, Greg didn’t last long before he was spilling himself inside Mycroft with a loud moan.

Greg nipped the skin at the back of Mycroft’s neck before soothing it with a kiss. Slowly, he pulled out of Mycroft with a slick sound and smirked as he saw his come trickling out of Mycroft’s reddened hole, unable to resist pulling Mycroft’s arse cheeks apart so that he could get a better look.

“Gregory, will you please let me move? I, um, I think some of your paperwork is stuck to me.”

A quick glance showed that Mycroft was telling the truth. He had indeed come untouched all over Greg’s desk and the paperwork that they hadn’t bothered to move. The sight of Mycroft lying sprawled over his desk, Greg’s come slowly leaking out of his arse and his own come sticking Greg’s paperwork to his stomach was more than a little tempting. Not only tempting, but delectable and more than a little dirty. And that thrilled Greg. Everybody else saw a buttoned-up, impeccably tailored civil servant that they all assumed was more than a little prudish. Greg saw this.

“So dirty. What would your colleagues think if they saw you now? You’re come all over my desk and my paperwork.”

Anything further Greg was going to say was interrupted by a noise from the main part of the department, making Mycroft squirm somewhat.

“I need to be going. Let me up so that I can clean myself up. I can’t go into a meeting with the Prime Minister smelling of sex.”

“No.”

“What do you mean no?”

Greg pressed a kiss to the back of Mycroft’s neck, even as he clamped his hands down onto Mycroft’s hips so that Mycroft couldn’t wiggle around quite as much. “You know what the word means, Mycroft, even if you aren’t used to hearing it from people all that often. I said no, you’re not going to clean yourself up.”

Ever so slowly, Greg started pushing the semen that had started trailing down Mycroft’s thighs back into his used hole. “You’re not going to get cleaned up because I want you to think about my come leaking out of you like a dirty little slut all the way through your meeting with the Prime Minister. And I don’t want you thinking that as soon as you’re away from the Yard and back in your office that you can clean yourself up and I’m never going to find out. I will find out.”

“What incentive are you going to give me? What is going to make it worth me going through with this?”

“You go through with this meeting like this and I will let you …” Greg whispered in Mycroft’s ear and knew, just from the low moan that ripped itself from Mycroft’s throat, that the younger man would be going to this meeting full of Greg’s come.

Just the thought of it had Greg hoping that this meeting wasn’t anything signifying the end of the world or indeed of Britain because he would have no objections to staying up or staying at the Yard a bit longer if it meant the possibility of a second round. Mycroft wouldn’t even really need any prep. All that would be needed was some lube and Greg could just slide straight in.

 Just thinking about it had Greg’s cock showing interest again, even if he didn’t have the same refractory period that he had once had, and he had to step away from Mycroft in order to clean himself up as best as he possibly could and hurriedly do up his pants. It wouldn’t take much for him to really be interested in a second round and Mycroft really would kill him if he was late for a meeting with the PM, never mind the fact that he would have Greg’s come soaking through his underwear.

~*~

**Three years…**

“Remind me again how you convinced me that this was a good idea?”

Greg rolled his eyes and hoped that Mycroft hadn’t seen him. The connection had only been up for several minutes, but Mycroft was already complaining. Then again, he should have expected it. Mycroft was notoriously technophobic, unlike Sherlock, and would never text if he could call so Greg wasn’t completely certain if he was pushing him too far with a video call, but he was willing to give it a go.

Mycroft had been away on business for two weeks and as far as Greg was concerned, that was two weeks too long. Especially when you took into consideration the fact that they had only been living together in their new place for a month. They should still be taking advantage of that and having sex all over the house. Instead, it seemed as though the only sex he was going to get was via a Skype connection if, and it was a very big if, he could persuade Mycroft to go along with this. That wasn’t taking into account what Mycroft’s reaction would be when he discovered the little surprise that Greg had snuck into Mycroft’s suitcase.

“I convinced you this was a good idea because you’ve been away for two weeks and we have no idea how much longer you’ll be away.”

“Surely you can cope. Or are you that desperate and want me that badly?” Mycroft’s tone was teasing, as though he still couldn’t believe how much Greg wanted him.

“Mycroft, never doubt how much I want you. I will always want you. That being said, I left a surprise for you in your suitcase. I’m surprised you haven’t found it yet or did an underling unpack for you?”

The tell-tale flush that spread across Mycroft’s cheeks obliterating the freckles dusted there told Greg that that was exactly what had happened. He waited patiently as Mycroft left the video screen and Greg could hear a variety of noises as Mycroft located where his so-called surprise was. Greg could tell the precise moment that he found it by the small sound of surprise. Seconds later, Mycroft was back in view of the camera, holding the non-descript bag that Greg had placed in Mycroft’s case himself.

“Would you mind explaining precisely what you were thinking when you put this in my case Gregory? How about what you were thinking when you went out and bought it?”

“I was thinking that considering how often you get called away it would mean that we could still have fun while you’re away. Don’t tell me that you aren’t tempted.”

Despite the simply adequate video connection, Greg could see the faint blush on Mycroft’s cheeks which, combined with the fact that Mycroft hadn’t refuted his words, gave Greg hope that maybe this hadn’t been the worst idea in the world.

“And if I were tempted,” Mycroft’s words were slow, almost hesitant, “what are you suggesting?”

“Considering what’s in the bag, what do you think I’m suggesting? I’m suggesting that you give me a little show.”

When the response came, Mycroft’s tone was scandalised. “I can’t do something like that! This is a respectable establishment. What if somebody heard me? Even worse, what if somebody walked in on me? I wouldn’t be able to look them in the eye again!”

“Firstly, lock the bloody door and no-one will walk in on you. If you really want to be on the safe side then hang the ‘do not disturb’ sign on the door seeing as that’s what it’s there for. Secondly, respectable establishment or not, I can guarantee that people have had sex there before and even that they’ve been overheard. Besides, can I remind you about a certain encounter in my office at Scotland Yard not so long ago? Judging by some of the looks and comments that have been floating around, you were definitely heard so don’t try and tell me that you can’t do something like that.”

Greg couldn’t help but grin as Mycroft got up without a word and, once again, moved out of view before returning looking slightly less tense than he had done.

“And how do you suggest that we proceed with this, Gregory?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I suppose it would help if you removed your clothes. We’re not going to get too far if you’re still fully dressed.”

“And will it just be me getting undressed?”

“Stop being a pain in the arse, Mycroft or there will be no point in doing this. If you’re going to be sarky, then you might as well just go back to your meetings.”

“No, I’m sorry, Gregory. It was just rather surprising and you know that I feel more than a little … self-conscious when it comes to things like this.”

“And I’ve told you over and over again that I love the way that you look and that will never change.”

Greg wasn’t lying. They had had this conversation multiple times over the years with Greg finally resorting to proving just how much he loved the way that Mycroft looked; normally with his hands, lips and tongue. Tonight was going to be no different. He was going to prove how much he loved the way that Mycroft looked; it was just going to have to be through his words rather than anything physical. Standing up, he shucked his own clothing, even his socks, and then sat down again.

“Does that make you feel better? Now you’re not the only one who’s naked?” As he finished speaking, Greg moved slightly in the chair and froze in mortification as his arse squeaked loudly on the leather chair. He didn’t feel quite so bad when it meant that Mycroft relaxed just enough to start undressing, Greg seizing the opportunity to find something to put between his arse and the leather seat.

“Well, now you’ve got me naked, what do you want me to do?” Mycroft looked as though he was fighting the urge to cover himself with his hands as best as he could, something that Greg found incredibly endearing.

“Tilt the screen of the laptop towards the bed and then get on the bed with the bag that I left for you.”

“And then what?”

Greg watched Mycroft eyeing the bed and the laptop screen, making the connection that he was either going to have to crawl onto the bed and in doing so give Greg a gratuitous shot of his arse or give him the front view if he moved further of the bed and then slid onto the piece of furniture in question.

“And then I want you to follow my instructions. Can you do that for me?”

Mycroft nodded and then, almost as though he were steeling himself, squared his shoulders and turned before crawling onto the bed and up to the head board. Greg couldn’t hold back the quiet moan at the sight of it and reached down to squeeze the base of his cock so that this whole thing didn’t finish much earlier than he intended. Mycroft had become much more self-confident over the course of their relationship, but he still wasn’t completely secure in his appearance; something that Greg could understand having witnessed Sherlock’s digs and snide comments towards his older sibling. Greg couldn’t understand Mycroft’s worries though because as far as Greg was concerned, his partner was utterly gorgeous. As for Mycroft’s arse; well that was a wonder to behold. A true work of art.

“When you’ve finished gawking at me, would you like to tell me what you want me to do?”

“I want you to touch yourself for me.”

“Oh, that simple is it? Where exactly do you want me to touch myself?”

Greg rolled his eyes; even naked Mycroft could be a sarcastic bastard and it really didn’t take too much intellect to guess where Sherlock had picked up his sarcastic traits from. But no, he didn’t want to be thinking about Sherlock when he was naked. “It doesn’t matter where you touch yourself. Just run your hands over your body and imagine that it’s me.”

“I would much rather that it was you doing this, I feel awkward.”

Greg didn’t need to be told that; it was obvious by the flush that was rapidly covering Mycroft’s body that couldn’t be solely attributed to arousal. “Will it make you feel better if I touch myself as well?”

“Yes!” There was no hesitation on Mycroft’s part and Greg could see him crane his neck in an attempt to ensure that Greg was keeping to his word. Greg had no intention of disappointing him, and flicked his thumb over the head of his cock before squeezing it in an attempt to alleviate the ache.

“Mycroft, I want you to slick your fingers and slide them between your legs. I want you to finger yourself until you’re nice and stretched because the only thing other than your fingers that is going inside you until you get home is that dildo.”

Greg looked on, idly stroking his cock, as Mycroft slowly and steadily fingered himself, stretching himself open until he was rutting back eagerly on his own fingers.

“You look so good, Mycroft. So hot spread out for me to watch. How good does it feel? Fingering yourself?”

Mycroft let out a gasp at his words, making Greg remember how responsive he had been when Greg had called him a slut. Were they at home, he probably would have done the same, knowing how he responded, but he didn’t want to overwhelm Mycroft too much.

“Well? How does it feel, My?”

“Uh, feels good. Wish it was you though, wish they were your fingers in me.”

Greg squeezed his cock at that. “I wish they were my fingers as well. You’re always so hot and tight around me. I want you to stretch yourself well because the next thing that’s going into you is that dildo.”

He smiled at the moan that ripped itself from Mycroft’s throat at that. It didn’t take long for Mycroft to remove his fingers in favour of the toy, taking his time and tossing his head back on the pillows as his body eagerly swallowed the whole length of the toy. Greg watched, his throat dry and his hand stroking his cock, as Mycroft eagerly fucked himself with the dildo. Admittedly it would be better if it was his cock or his own fingers driving into that tight heat rather than a piece of plastic, but this was an acceptable substitute.

“Now stroke yourself, Mycroft. I want to see you come for me.” He watched as Mycroft took his cock in hand, his hips hitching as he stroked himself. “Ah ah ah, just because I said you could stroke yourself, didn’t mean you can stop with the toy.”

As he spoke, Greg slowed down his speed stroking his own cock. He had no intention of coming before Mycroft did. It didn’t take too long before Mycroft became much more uncoordinated, the hand thrusting the toy in and out of himself becoming much more erratic as he focused on his cock. The noises emanating from Mycroft grew louder and then, burying the dildo inside himself one last time and with only a couple more strokes of his cock and a hoarse cry that he tried to muffle in the pillow, Mycroft was coming, painting his stomach with his come. The sight in front of him was enough to tip Greg over the edge and he did precisely that, a quick bit of thinking meaning that he just barely avoided striping the computer screen with his come.

Mycroft was lying on the bed, still with the dildo buried inside him and his stomach splattered with his own semen when there was a knock at his door, a knock that Greg could clearly hear through the Skype connection. Mycroft froze before he called out, not really in a position to do anything else.

“Who is it?”

“It’s me, Sir.”

The voice was thankfully the instantly recognisable tones of Mycroft’s assistant and Greg relaxed fractionally although Mycroft didn’t and glared in Greg’s direction.

“What is it, Anthea?”

“Just to let you know that this evening’s dinner has been cancelled and you have no more appointments this evening.”

“Thank you Anthea, I shall see you in the morning.”

The appearance of Anthea, even if it had been through the door, had obviously put an end to anything further as Mycroft started to move, starting by removing the dildo with a slick sound that Greg could hear even over the distance. He moaned at the brief sight of Mycroft’s used hole and, despite his recent orgasm, his cock gave an interested twitch. Still, post-orgasm, Greg could see just how exhausted Mycroft was and he knew that however much he wanted to prolong this, it just wasn’t fair on his partner.

“You had better go and clean yourself up, My, you look exhausted.”

“I am somewhat. I hadn’t realised it before.” There was a brief pause before Mycroft spoke again. “Despite my protestations at the start, I did … enjoy myself. It just would have been more pleasurable if you had been here in person rather than on the other end of a video connection. I should be home in a couple of days though.”

“I look forward to it. Goodnight, Mycroft.”

“Goodnight, Gregory.”

~*~

**Four years…**

Greg nodded at Anthea as she continued with her phone call and simply waved him through into Mycroft’s office, something that he could do now without hesitation. When he had first started seeing Mycroft, he had felt distinctly uncomfortable and out of his depth visiting the younger man in his office. Then again, when he and Mycroft had first started dating he had to undergo fairly stringent security measures every time he came to Mycroft’s place of work. Now, four years down the line, he was a very familiar face and would simply get waved through by the security guards. Stepping into the wood-panelled office, he couldn’t help but feel gratified by the look of delight that spread across Mycroft’s face as the younger man caught sight of him and capped his fountain pen before setting it aside.

“Gregory! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“A little bird informed me that you had officially finished your meetings for the day and considering that you’ve been off preventing World War III for the last ten days, I thought that my paperwork could wait until tomorrow.”

“I shall have to think of something suitable to thank that little bird.”

Mycroft stood from behind his desk and made his way around it to the seat Greg had taken in front of said desk, frowning slightly as Greg made no moves to stand up, instead choosing to remain seated. He let out something that was definitely _not_  a squeak as hands shot out and clamped onto his hips, tugging him down into Gregory’s lap. Before he could make any sort of protest, he was kissed and, well to be perfectly frank, kissing Gregory was far more pleasurable than protesting. They remained in that position, with Mycroft perched on Gregory’s lap, trading lazy and lingering kisses until there was a knock on the door and Anthea poked her head in.

“I’m sorry, sir, but the Ambassador has returned your call from earlier. I’ve put him on hold; line two.”

Mycroft immediately removed himself from Greg’s lap, moving back over to his desk as he ran his hands over his hair to smooth over the places where Greg’s fingers had mussed it up.

“I am sorry Gregory; I really do need to take this phone call.”

“No problem. I can wait here until you’ve finished or if it’s too confidential I can go outside.”

“No, no, it’s fine. I shall endeavour to finish as soon as possible.”

Just why it was unnecessary became clear as Mycroft smiled thinly and picked up the phone, pressing the button for the correct extension. Within seconds, the room was filled with Mycroft’s modulated tones speaking in a foreign language that seemed familiar, but that he couldn’t definitively place. Greg managed to sit through fifteen minutes of conversation before he was so hard that his cock was tenting his pants and he was doing his level best not to squirm too much so that he didn’t disturb Mycroft. He hadn’t thought that Mycroft speaking whatever Arabic language, or at least he thought it was an Arabic language, he was currently using would turn him on this much but apparently that wasn’t the case. Although considering he had wanked to the memory of Mycroft speaking Italian, he really shouldn’t be too surprised. Mycroft being competent and efficient not only in English was a complete turn-on. 

Mycroft turned away from his desk to accept several files that Anthea brought in for him and as the assistant left the room, Greg decided to take a risk. He swiftly stood up and seized the opportunity to slide in between Mycroft’s legs and into the gap of Mycroft’s desk. He smirked as he saw realisation dawn on Mycroft’s face and ignored the silent attempts to stop his actions. Normally he wouldn’t consider doing anything like this, but this phone call had interrupted the first time that he and Mycroft had been able to spend together in a fortnight and, well, he was horny damn it!

Ignoring Mycroft’s glares and ‘cease and desist’ motions, he reached for Mycroft’s waist and unbuckled his belt before moving onto the button and zip. Once he had managed that, he sat back on his heels and cursed the fact that Mycroft _still_ wore briefs rather than boxers. It wasn’t a complete disaster, it just meant a bit more logistical manoeuvring as Mycroft certainly wasn’t going to be predisposed to give him any help. With more than a little bit of wrangling, he finally had Mycroft’s cock exposed and, despite Mycroft’s glares, it was definitely showing interest in Greg’s plans for the near future.

Deciding to take his time, he breathed hotly over Mycroft’s cock as he flicked open his own trousers, smirking as Mycroft’s cock gave a decidedly interested twitch. When Mycroft’s only response was a raised eyebrow and the continuation of his phone call, Greg decided to up his game. Leaning forward, he breathed once more over the tip of Mycroft’s cock before licking a broad stripe up the vein that ran along the underside of Mycroft’s shaft.

He pulled back and licked his lips, allowing the sound of Mycroft talking to drift over him. He knew that in all probability it was an incredibly boring conversation about taxes or trade agreements or something all too similar, but it didn’t sound boring to him. Mycroft’s perfectly modulated tones wrapped themselves around the unfamiliar words and phrases, making them seem like music. It was such a fucking turn on and Greg couldn’t help but be relieved that he had undone his trousers in an attempt to release the pressure even somewhat.

When Mycroft paused to listen to whoever was on the other end of the phone, Greg seized the opportunity to tongue Mycroft’s slit, licking up the pre-come before he opened his mouth wide and took Mycroft’s cock into his throat. As Mycroft started talking again, dulcet tones floating over his head, Greg sucked harder and hollowed his cheeks, bobbing his head until his nose was pressed up against Mycroft’s pubic bone. Drawing back, every single time that Mycroft spoke, Greg used every single trick in his book to tease his partner.

The second that Mycroft put the phone down, he speared a hand through Greg’s hair and his hips started hitching slightly, thrusting his cock further down Greg’s throat. While he had managed to keep his voice calm and collected throughout the phone call that was no longer the case. Now, a series of quiet whimpers and moans escaped him, despite his desperate attempts to keep them in. not that Greg had any complaints. He loved that he could pull this kind of response from Mycroft although, as enjoyable as this was, he much preferred it when they had the luxury of being in true privacy; when he could make Mycroft come apart underneath him and neither of them have to restrain themselves from making a sound. Still, this was better than nothing and he would take what he could get.

Knowing that now Mycroft had finished his conversation they only had a short amount of time before Anthea reappeared, Greg doubled his efforts. Relaxing his throat, he swallowed Mycroft down to the base and hummed, allowing his throat to contract and relax around Mycroft, the action resulting in Mycroft’s nails raking across his skull. When Mycroft’s hands started to clench in the material of his trousers and suit jacket, rumpling and creasing the immaculate tailoring, Greg knew that he was close.

Sure enough, mere moments later he was swallowing down Mycroft’s slightly bitter semen as the younger man slapped a hand over his mouth in an attempt to muffle his cries. Greg wasn’t convinced that he was completely successful, but he didn’t want to be the one to tell Mycroft that. He carried on swallowing until there was nothing left to swallow and then he made sure to lick away all evidence of Mycroft’s orgasm before he pulled back. Sliding his hand into his own boxers, it took barely four strokes before he was groaning his own release into Mycroft’s thigh, hoping that he hadn’t got anything on the ridiculously expensive Persian rug under his knees as an afterthought; Mycroft would never forgive him if the cleaning staff found any evidence of what they’d been doing.

As Mycroft remained slumped back in his seat, Greg reached for the handkerchief that he knew the other man would have in his trouser pocket and used it to wipe his own release from his hand. Fastening his own trousers back up, he sat back on his heels and looked at Mycroft who was attempting to glare at him, but it had all the ferocity of a disgruntled kitten.

“You, my dear Gregory, are a tease.”

Greg leaned in for a kiss, knowing that Mycroft would be able to taste himself. “No, I’m not. Teases don’t follow through.”

~*~

**Six years…**

“I would have married you a long time ago if I’d realised you were going to be like this,” Mycroft huffed out amidst his laughter as Greg slammed him back into the door in his eagerness. 

“You make it sound as though we never have sex,” Greg ran the flat of his tongue up Mycroft’s throat, pausing briefly to nip at his Adam’s apple. “And that definitely isn’t true. Considering that neither of us are young men, we have plenty of sex. In fact, I’d venture to say that we have more sex than some people half our age.”

“You are probably right. That still doesn’t answer my question though.”

“And what is your question?”

“Not that I’m complaining, but what has caused this?”

“I didn’t think about the fact that you’d be speaking Italian when I booked this place for our honeymoon.” Even as he spoke, Greg was completely focused on removing every scrap of clothing from his new husband’s body.

“Gregory, what are you talking about?”

“You speaking a foreign language, any foreign language, is a complete turn on for me. I remember one of the very first dates that we went on was interrupted by a phone call from work for you. I didn’t even know what the foreign language was, but I was so hard that I went home and wanked to memory of you talking.”

Greg paused in confusion when Mycroft’s hand which, up until now, had been removing Greg’s clothing as eagerly as his had been removing Mycroft’s before Mycroft spoke in a slightly strangled tone.

“I’m sorry, could you repeat that?”

“What?”

“What did you just say?”

“That I wanked to the memory of you talking in a foreign language? That?” Greg watched as Mycroft’s pupils dilated. “You had absolutely no idea did you?”

“About that? No.” Mycroft quickly stripped Greg out of the rest of his clothes. “Just to clarify, it doesn’t matter what foreign language I speak in?”

“No, any of them work for me.”

“Good. In that case,” Mycroft leant in close and whispered in Greg’s ear as he ran a teasing finger up Greg’s already hard cock, “Voglio che mi scopi.”

Greg didn’t really have a clue what it meant, but it sounded similar to the language that Mycroft had been speaking earlier and Greg could get a fairly decent idea of what Mycroft was saying by the way that he grabbed Greg’s cock. Manoeuvring them over to the bed, Greg pushed Mycroft down onto it and manipulated him into the position that he wanted him in.

“Gregory, por favor, sólo me jodas.”

Ignoring the words, seeing as he didn’t understand them anyway, and the way that his cock reacted to them he turned away to retrieve the tube of lubricant he had brought with them. When he turned back towards the bed he found Mycroft had lost patience waiting for him and was slowly stroking his own cock.

“J’ai besoin de toi en moi, je ne peux pas attendre plus longtemps.”

Wasting absolutely no time and leaving the lubricant within easy reach, Greg crawled onto the bed and straddled Mycroft, slapping Mycroft’s hand from his own cock in the process. There wasn’t a single part of Mycroft’s torso that escaped Greg’s attention; his chest, nipples, ribs, abs, even his navel were all dotted with kisses, licks and teasing nips, all of it done excruciatingly slowly.

“Just how much can you take, Mycroft, before you start begging?”

The answer was a lot. But then that didn’t surprise Greg in the slightest. Not even taking Mycroft’s cock in his mouth, cheeks hollowing as he sucked hard on the flesh that filled his mouth, resulted in any form of begging from Mycroft. Although, the reason for that became apparent when Greg looked up Mycroft’s torso and realised that Mycroft’s lip was caught in his teeth, determined not to beg. Of course, Greg had no intention of letting him get away with that.

“None of that now, I want to hear you. I want to hear you moan like the whore only I know you can be.”

Mycroft obliged him and released his lip from beneath his teeth, moaning and whimpering as Greg sucked Mycroft’s cock back down his throat, only to protest loudly when Greg pulled back with a slick pop, begging for more.

“Look at you, acting like a little slut, all desperate for my cock. Desperate for anything really.”

“Yes! Please, Gregory, I need it, I need you. Need your cock.”

Normally, Greg would give in and give Mycroft exactly what he was begging for but tonight he had no intention of doing that. It was their wedding night and it was going to be the only one that they were going to have so Greg had every intention of drawing this out for as long as possible. Rolling Mycroft over onto his stomach, Greg repeated the actions across his back leaving a series of gentle bites across the swell of Mycroft’s arse cheeks, enjoying the way that the plump flesh reddened slightly. Taking a firm grip on Mycroft’s arse cheeks, he spread them so that he could have an unhindered view of Mycroft’s hole. Greg trailed his tongue down the cleft of Mycroft’s arse, grinning to himself as Mycroft pressed back eagerly.

“Oh God, Gregory, _more,_ please. _Please.”_

Greg couldn’t help but chuckle, the sensation of his warm breath ghosting over sensitive skin and making Mycroft’s arse clench. He loved the way that Mycroft reacted when he did this. The first time that Greg had done this to Mycroft, the politician had turned the air blue with his use of profanity once he had started to enjoy himself and stopped protesting about how unhygienic Greg’s actions were. It wasn’t something that they did on a regular basis; hell, there were more than a few occasions when they were both so exhausted from work that they could just about manage a few kisses, a bit of a fumble and a snuggle as they fell asleep but it was something that they both enjoyed.

Dipping his head again, he licked a broad swipe from Mycroft’s perineum to his tailbone, before returning to lap at Mycroft's hole, his fingers bound to leave marks from his efforts to keep Mycroft’s hips still. Greg then proceeded to stiffen and slightly furl his tongue before ever so slowly starting to tongue-fuck Mycroft. Considering how once Mycroft would have been terrified about the possibility of anybody overhearing them having sex in a hotel, judging the volume of the noises that he was currently making, he was over that particular inhibition. By the time that Greg pulled away for the lubricant, Mycroft’s protestations and pleas had turned into a string of incomprehensible babble, a whole host of languages intermingling, as he pushed backwards eagerly.  
  
His slick fingers traced the rim of Mycroft’s hole before he pressed the pad of his index finger against it, watching in fascination as the ring of muscle sucked it in greedily, amazed at how tight Mycroft still was. Two more of Greg’s fingers were taken in in the same greedy, eager fashion with Greg telling Mycroft exactly that, whispering it in his ear as he teased the sensitive skin of Mycroft’s ear and just behind it with lips and teeth. He took great delight in taking his time to finger Mycroft open excruciatingly slowly, pressing and rubbing the pad of his middle finger over Mycroft’s prostate insistently until Mycroft was literally rutting back on Greg’s fingers with little huffs of breath and the odd whimper, his cheeks flushed and a light sheen of sweat covering his body. Greg was happy to let Mycroft control the movements, listening to the litany of words and curses that spilled from Mycroft’s mouth, the curses in particular becoming extremely prolific when Greg pulled back, removing his fingers with a delicious sound, before Mycroft could come.

“Gregory, I love you dearly, but will you please stop being such a bloody tease and just fuck me!”

Greg moaned as he caught sight of Mycroft’s reddened and loosened hole, shining wetly with a mixture of lube and Greg’s saliva. “With pleasure, _husband mine._ ”

And Greg proceeded to do exactly that.

Flipping Mycroft over on his back, Greg slicked up his cock before steadily pressing into Mycroft until his cock was buried balls-deep inside Mycroft. The urge to take Mycroft hard and fast was oh so tempting, but Greg had spent so long teasing and tormenting Mycroft, determined to draw this out as much as possible, that he found he wanted to continue in the same vein. With that in mind, once he was thoroughly sheathed within Mycroft, Greg held himself still until Mycroft had had enough of waiting and pushed back impatiently, his slightly upturned arse pressing back against Greg’s hips. Only when Mycroft started to clench his internal muscles around Greg’s cock did he finally start to move, much to Mycroft’s relief.

Greg started thrusting into Mycroft slowly and steadily, angling his hips to ensure that the head of his cock raked across Mycroft’s prostate with every thrust. One of his hands was bracing him against the bed while the other was wrapped around Mycroft’s calf, pushing his leg further up towards his chest so that Greg could thrust that little bit deeper. It didn’t take much for Mycroft to anticipate Greg’s next action and move himself, wrapping his leg around Greg’s waist and twisting it slowly so that his heel was pressing into Greg’s arse, the movement canting his hips up even further and leaving Greg with both hands free to brace himself against the bed. He dipped his head and captured Mycroft’s lips in a toe-curling kiss that was interrupted when Mycroft ripped his mouth away from Greg’s with a cry as Greg thrust particularly deep. Greg loved this part, when he had reduced the normally oh so eloquent Mycroft Holmes to single syllable words and a myriad of grunts. Mycroft’s hands raked across Greg’s back and shoulders leaving red scratches in their wake, encouraging him to speed up his thrusts, something that Greg was disinclined to indulge him in.

Regardless, even keeping a steady pace, it wasn’t too long before Greg felt himself approaching his climax and he wrapped his fist around Mycroft’s previously neglected erection. Considering how long he had managed to prolong things for, he was frankly rather amazed that they had managed to last this long. It didn’t take long before Mycroft was arching his back as Greg drove into him deeply as both of them exploded, loud cries echoing from both of them. Greg remained slumped over Mycroft for several long minutes, trying to summon up the inclination to move, although he did manage to unwrap Mycroft’s leg from around his waist. When he finally did pull out of Mycroft as carefully as he could, Mycroft barely stirred, even when Greg pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

Moving into the bathroom to find a damp cloth to clean them both up Greg shot a longing look at the marble bathtub, a monstrosity that looked as though it could fit both of them at once. He then glanced back over his shoulder at where Mycroft lay sprawled over the sheets, pretty much fast asleep by now, and acknowledged that it would be much more pleasurable for both of them to indulge. And besides, they had plenty of time.

(~*~)

They had barely been asleep for an hour and it was more passed out rather than sleeping when, of course, Mycroft’s phone rang. Greg didn’t even bother lifting his head off the pillow.

“If you answer that telephone then I swear I will divorce you immediately, regardless of the fact that we’ve only just got married in the last twenty-four hours.”

“But it might be important…”

“I don’t give a shit if it’s important or not. I don’t care if it’s your idiot of a brother, I don’t care if it’s the sodding Prime Minister, I don’t even care if it’s the bloody Queen of England. And don’t give me that look, I know perfectly well who ‘Betsy’ is in your address book.”

“What if …”

“Mycroft, I don’t care if the world is being taken over by zombies, you are not answering that fucking phone. I. Will. Not. Let. You.” Each word was punctuated by a kiss.

“So authoritative of you,” Mycroft arched his neck as Greg’s teeth scraped along his jugular, “I do believe I like it.”

“Good. You’re still not answering the phone so don’t think placating me will work. If you do, then the only cock you’re going to be getting for the rest of our time here will be the plastic one sitting in our suitcase.”

Greg smirked as Mycroft’s body went lax underneath him as the younger man stopped protesting and tilted his head for a kiss that was very willingly given.

“Detective Inspector Holmes-Lestrade, I do believe I’m at your mercy. Do with me as you will.”


End file.
